


On a Date

by SandyJenkins



Series: 30 Day OTP Challenge [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Wall Sex, on a date, top!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:45:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2325890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandyJenkins/pseuds/SandyJenkins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock go on a date. Sexy times ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Date

“You look fine, Sherlock, really. That’s perfect. We have to get going now,” John said, dragging Sherlock away from the mirror for the tenth time that night.

“This would be much easier if I knew where we were going,” Sherlock huffed, taking of his bowtie and unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt.

“You look fantastic. All that matters now is that we leave.” John pulled Sherlock’s coat off of the coat hanger and draped it around his shoulders.

“Cab’s outside. I’m going to go grab something from our room.”

The whole thing was incredibly tiresome, Sherlock thought to himself, taking the steps two at a time and waiting in the back seat of the cab for John to join him. The date- that had been acceptable. A nice evening out, John had said, just the two of them. It was the fact that it was a surprise that he wasn’t very fond of. If there was one thing Sherlock couldn’t stand, it was not knowing, and for two weeks he had been forced into a state of complete ignorance by John’s careful planning and clever dodging of questions. Hateful. John hurried out the front door, locking it behind him, and then slide next to Sherlock in the back of the cab, wrapping their fingers together. Well, Sherlock reconsidered, maybe not completely terrible. 

Sherlock jolts into awareness when the cab comes to stop. John fishes around in his coat pocket and pays the cabbie, opening the door and stepping out onto the pavement. Sherlock quickly scrambles out after him, and takes in his surroundings.

“The London Opera House. I could say I was surprised, but…”

“Let me guess? You know exactly where we were going after the first left turn?” John chuckled and grabbed Sherlock’s hand, walking him towards the entrance.

“You should be pleased I didn’t get it even sooner. You’ve managed to keep it a secret for weeks. Incredibly exasperating.” John opened his wallet and presented their tickets at the entrance- box seats, Sherlock noticed. The woman took their tickets and pointed them in the direction of their seats. Once they had gotten settled in their chairs, John looked over anxiously at Sherlock.

“I don’t know a lot about opera, but this one looked interesting, and I thought that maybe you would…”

“John,” Sherlock said, cutting him off, “it’s perfect. Really. The chord progressions in the overture were simply groundbreaking at the time, and the violinist is supreme.”

“So, it’s a good surprise, then?” 

“As good as a surprise can be, though as a whole they’re still dreadful,” Sherlock said, smiling at John and taking his hand. The lights began to dim and they both settled back into their seats.

Sherlock was lost in the music. Opera had always been one of his interests, though he hadn’t become truly passionate about it until he had started dancing. It was, in his opinion, the highest form of art- music, dance, singing, poetry, storytelling- Sherlock was admittedly infatuated. So infatuated, in fact, that he didn’t notice that John had fallen asleep until the curtain closed for the intermission. 

“John,” he said, shaking his shoulder lightly.

“Wah- is it over already?” John sat up in his chair and looked around the box.

“No, just intermission. I thought you might need the loo.”

“Yeah, actually,” John got up from the chair and follow Sherlock down the corridor, “what do you think of it so far?”

“It’s excellent, John. The music is even better than I anticipated. I can’t say you seem to feel the same.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve just been tired, and when the lights went out…”

“I don’t mind. You’re quite… adorable when you sleep,” Sherlock said quietly, a blush creeping across his cheekbones. John squeezed his hand.

“As long as you’re enjoying it, that’s all that matters.”

They found the toilets and then hurried back to their seats. As the music began again, Sherlock could feel John tensing next to him, making a valiant effort to stay awake. Sherlock slid his chair until it was pressed up against John’s and wrapped his arm around him.

“I really don’t mind,” he whispered. John smiled bashfully and rested his head against Sherlock’s shoulder, closing his eyes. Sherlock carefully took his belstaff off the back of his chair and draped it over John.

“Thank you,” John murmured, his voice full of sleep. He settled into Sherlock’s side and drifted out of consciousness.

When the opera ended, Sherlock gently shook John awake again. They gathered their things and walked out onto the street.

“Dinner? I’m starving,” John said, attempting to hail a cab. Sherlock stepped into the street and waved one down.

“Where?” Sherlock said, sliding into the back seat next to John.

“I was thinking Angelo’s. Food’s good, with the added benefit of being free.”

“Angelo’s it is.”

Their dinner passed rather quickly, a blur of wine and knees brushed under the table. As the caresses became more heated and the food was finished, John hurriedly pulled a couple of pounds out of his wallet and left them on the table.

“Home?” John asked, pulling on his coat.

“I should hope so,” Sherlock said, thanking Angelo and following John out the door. As soon as they were outside, John pushed Sherlock against the wall and pressed a firm kiss against his mouth.

“You look gorgeous. It’s been torturing me all night.” Sherlock smirked and mouthed at John’s jawline and he felt heat pooling in his groin.

“Shit, Sherlock, slow down. Let’s get home before this goes any further. We don’t want to fuck in an alley, now do we?” John said, grabbing Sherlock bum and kissing his neck.

“As enticing as that does sound, I do believe home would be more… appropriate,” he gasped, pulling away from John. John wrapped his arm around Sherlock’s waist, and quickly walked the five minutes back to their flat. As soon as they were safely inside Baker Street, John pinned Sherlock against the wall and began planted open mouthed kisses down his jaw and neck. Sherlock moaned, arching into the contact.

“Upstairs?” He panted, making no effort to slow John’s movement down his neck and onto his chest.

“Hurry,” John said, dragging Sherlock up the stairs and into their flat. When Sherlock crossed the threshold, John pushed him back into the door, slamming it shut, and began pulled open the strained buttons on Sherlock’s shirt. Once the shirt was all the way open, he ran his tongue down Sherlock’s chest, and moved to focus on his nipples. Sherlock gasped and ran his fingers through John’s hair when John rolled his nipple between his finger, tonguing the other. Sherlock whimpered and began grinding his cock into John’s thigh.

“Christ, Sherlock. You’re so hard already,” John murmured against Sherlock’s chest, pulling back so that he had enough space to completely divest Sherlock of his shirt and jacket. 

“Why don’t you do something about it?” Sherlock said, grinding his hips hard against John’s as he worked John’s shirt and jacket off with shaking hands. 

“Slow down, Sherlock. As tempting as a quick hump against the wall sounds, I want to take my time with you tonight. Take of your trousers and lie down on the couch, I’ll be right back.” 

John went to their room, restraining himself from breaking out into a jog, and quickly located the lube in Sherlock’s drawer. When he returned to the sitting room, he found Sherlock spread out over the couch, his long legs making it necessary for him to dangle his feet of the edge of the couch.

“You’re so beautiful,” John whispered against Sherlock’s chest, pressing a few light kisses to his sternum, “I love you so much.” Sherlock keened as John showered him with praise and sweet kisses. He mouthed desperately at John’s neck, urging him to go faster.

“You’re eager tonight, aren’t you?” John said chuckling, “up against the wall; back facing me. I want to take my time with you.” Sherlock quickly moved to comply, and while he situated himself, John pulled off his own shirt and trousers, leaving on just his pants. He walked over to Sherlock’s prone form, setting the bottle of lube on the floor beside Sherlock’s leg. He placed a sloppy, open mouthed kiss at the base of Sherlock’s spine, drawing a groan from the detective. He moved downward, first licking Sherlock’s cheeks, and then pulling them apart slowly. 

When Sherlock felt the first puff of warm air against his hole, he shuddered and exhaled heavily. They didn’t engage in this particular activity very often, but Sherlock could say with certainty that it was one of his personal favorites. He braced his hands against the wall and spread his legs further apart. John smirked at Sherlock’s eagerness, and then leaned in to lick a stripe from Sherlock’s bollocks to his hole. Sherlock whimpered and pushed back into the contact. John started to focus his licks around Sherlock’s anus, tonguing his rim. As he felt Sherlock begin to flutter and twitch underneath him, he pushed his tongue inside Sherlock. Sherlock jolted and keened, rolling his hips and pressing back against John. John teased Sherlock’s hole, lightly licking just inside him a few times before pulling back to circle his rim again. Sherlock was coming completely undone; he could no longer hold in any of his whimpers or groans, and was breathing heavily against his arm.

“I think you’re ready for a bit more,” John said, pulling back and admiring Sherlock’s loosened, wet hole. He reached for the lube and spread some over two of his fingers, palming his aching erection with the other hand. Sherlock, still shaking from John’s earlier ministrations, turned to glare at John.

“John, if you don’t hurry up, I’ll do it myself,” Sherlock panted, pushing his arse closer to John. John chuckled and smacked Sherlock’s arse lightly.

“Your wish,” John said, briefly rubbing his fingers over Sherlock’s slackened hole before pushing them in and rubbing his hot, silken passage. Sherlock clenched around John’s fingers and groaned loudly. John scissored his fingers, stretching and relaxing the tight muscle. He pulled his hand out and lubed the third finger, pushing them back into Sherlock’s spasming hole. He pushed his fingers in deep, and bent them back, feeling for Sherlock’s prostate. After a few passes, he found it, lightly rubbing as Sherlock bucked and keened. He pumped his hand a few more times, then pulled his fingers out and wiped them on his pants. 

“Are you ready?” He asked, rubbing soft circles on Sherlock’s thigh. 

“Ah-yes, John!” Sherlock keened, turning around and grinding against John. John moaned at the contact, the feeling of being touched after waiting for so long overriding any desire he may have had to take things slowly. He pulls off his pants, and guides Sherlock’s back against the wall. After making sure Sherlock is braced against the wall, he pulls those long, beautiful legs around his waist and finally sinks into the tight heat.

“Oh, god, Sherlock, you’re brilliant, you’re amazing,” he says as Sherlock groans. He wraps his arms around Sherlock’s waist and carefully thrusts a few times into Sherlock, giving him a chance to get used to the stretch. Sherlock, as far gone as he is, moans wildly, and tries to angle his hips so that John can get deeper. 

“Here, let me-” John says, pulling Sherlock’s legs up over his shoulders- and with the adrenal, the oxytocin, he’s not even feeling the twinge in his shoulder- and pounding into him with renewed fervor. His hard strokes brush across Sherlock’s prostate almost constantly, knocking his head back into the wall with a banging John is almost sure will wake the married ones next door. Sherlock is reaching his breaking point, his hands grasping John’s biceps so tightly that it’s painful. John can feel Sherlock starting to clench around him, feel the precome leaking from his cock. 

“Come on Sherlock, come for me,” John whispers in Sherlock’s ear, deliberately rubbing his stomach over Sherlock’s cock as he thrusts. 

“Ah, oh god, John!” Sherlock cries as he comes, shaking and spilling in between their joined bodies. Sherlock’s body is entirely dead weight as he orgasms, and John has just enough time to thrust into Sherlock’s body again before he’s coming and they slide down the wall and come to rest on the floor. John pulls Sherlock tight against his chest, stroking his back through the last of his tremors. When the last of the trembles have abated, John stands and pulls Sherlock up next to him, shifting them until they can lie down on the couch. John is pressed against the back of the couch, with Sherlock in front of him. He has just enough space to work his arm out from where it’s sandwiched between their bodies and pull a blanket off the back of the couch, draping it over himself and Sherlock.

“Mm, that was good,” Sherlock hums, snuggling back into John, “though I think your shoulder won’t be too pleased tomorrow.”

“Worth it,” John mumbled, pressing his face against the back of Sherlock’s neck as his eyes drifted shut.

They fall asleep, wrapped in each other, the combined heat of their bodies keeping out the cold night air.

**Author's Note:**

> This is day 4 of the 30 Day OTP Challenge (which at this rate is going to take a lot longer...)   
> Find me on [tumblr](http://forever-peachy-keen.tumblr.com/)


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